


Space

by shittershutter



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, human!body Luther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 18:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19090588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: "How are you this fucking good to me?" he rasps. Maybe if he knew Luther was so adept to tend to his stranger needs, he'd start liking him sooner."I read a book," Luther says sheepishly. And before Diego's chest explodes with warmth and adoration, he adds: "You're kinda easy to impress, though."





	Space

**Author's Note:**

> I have another two of these:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/18017846
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708460
> 
> Also, I prefer a human!body Luther but this one kind of works with the canon!body scenario, too (oh god).

Luther tells him about the endless, impersonal darkness of space, about swimming through it in zero gravity in this strange small voice he reserves for the things that make sense, that matter to him the most. 

"Once you get through the initial existential terror of it all, it's quite peaceful, isn't it? Meditative almost." He blinks slowly. Between his eyes closing and opening again, it looks like he manages to fly to the moon and back. "It never once managed to make my dick hard, though". 

He stares at Diego thoughtfully, like he gets the theory of him but not the practical application, not quite, not yet. 

"Do you want the mask?"

Diego is hanging from the ceiling, literally, like a Christmas ham, all lubed out and flushed, making good use of that hook they've installed for a punching bag but then accidentally found a million of other applications for. His hands are bound at the wrists above him and he's wiggling his fingers constantly to fight the numbness. Once the big guy goes into a contemplative monologue, this shit tends to drag for a while. 

The legs are the point of contention between them because they both know that if Diego has a single digit free, he's getting out of any contraption and that kind of destroys the whole illusion. So his ankles get bound together and it's fairly competent. He'll need up to twenty minutes to get out of those loops and knots and much less time to come his brains out so he doesn't bitch about the execution. 

"Up to you," Diego says. "The mask, I mean." He'd prefer the whole shebang, of course, including hanging upside down but that is way beyond Luther's comfort levels and he'd rather give the guy some wiggle room. 

He can't feel that delicious gravity pull because Luther holds him by the waist, perfectly perpendicular to the ceiling and the floor and his hot breath flies by Diego's ear in rapid bursts. 

His hands are steady, though, fingers ticklish against the ribs, drumming. 

Suddenly Diego can't take the hesitation. "Let go, big guy," he says in the smallest voice that should sound encouraging but sounds pathetic instead. He'd radiate assurance and enthusiasm as he should but his dick that is burning a hole in Luther's torso so unceremoniously has sucked all the life force out of him. 

"It's okay," he blinks to get the sting out of his eyes. He'd give that stubborn mouth a smooch to calm his worries but what he can do is bump his forehead against Luther's shoulder instead. It does the job anyway. 

The fingers unclench, the leather restraints around Diego's wrists tense and creak and he's left to hang from the ceiling, rocking from side to side, weightless.

The floor is there somewhere, right under, the ugly greenish carpet and all but he can't reach it with his toes no matter how hard he tries and that's the testament to Luther's skill. That makes him throw his head back and growl into the ceiling with the newfound strength in his voice. 

"How are you this fucking good to me?" he rasps. Maybe if he knew Luther was so adept to tend to his stranger needs, he'd start liking him sooner. 

"I read a book," Luther says sheepishly. And before Diego's chest explodes with warmth and adoration, he adds: "You're kinda easy to impress, though."

The jab doesn't scratch the smaller man's ego. Doesn't even tickle it. He's hanging perfectly still as his every muscle is screaming for support, for a balance of any kind, for the physical world to manifest in anything else except the tightness of restraints against the wrists and Luther's breath, deep and measured right next to him. 

Freed from options, his brain gets slowly filled with white noise and starts buzzing with it quietly. He can't fight his way out of this and that's the most comforting, grounding feeling he's ever had. 

Luther's right next to him to bear a silent witness to his ultimate failure and pass no judgment.

He moves around Diego in circles, the vibration from his heavy steps resonating against his very core, hot breath traveling along the sweaty skin. He drops a kiss here and there, to his throat, his shoulder-blade, the back of his neck as his clothes drop to the floor. Then, when Diego accepts that this hypnotic dance will not end, he presses himself tight against his back. Molds himself against the smaller man's body until they fit perfectly one against the other and pulls him onto his dick slowly. 

It's merciless and perfect just like Diego wanted it to be. So are his thrusts, out of sync, but deep, powerful. They are too much when he goes fully in -- Diego grimaces and pulls his jaw muscle from the intensity -- but the second he's almost fully out, it's not enough. 

Then, before he manages to pick up speed, Luther suddenly stops and says: "No". It hangs awkwardly between them while the big guy's hips are still moving slightly and Diego's tongue finally remembers its function to break the silence. 

"Wha... what do you mean "no"? he croaks. His voice comes and goes, words drown in gasps and there is no way in hell he'll be able to string another sentence together if Luther chooses to be a dick and ignore him the first time. 

The man kisses the back of his head like it's supposed to make up for the overwhelming emptiness he feels immediately after when he pulls out and the sweaty skin of his chest separates from Diego's back with the soft hiss. 

Now Diego's alone and not in a way he's intended to be with the burning eyes and the roaring blood in his ears. The desperation builds under his ribs and it comes out in a howl, shameless and sad. 

Before the sound subsides, Luther's hands catch his calves and he's undoing the elaborate knots around the ankles rapidly, mouth sliding against the tense muscles of Diego's thighs, teeth grazing his kneecaps. 

He feels small when he's on his knees in front of Diego, his imposing presence completely dissolved in frantic energy. 

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here..." he repeats over and over like it's a mantra, a spell to get things back on track. Diego just drools down at him, slow streams of saliva running down his neck and chest. Faster streams of sweat and tears rolling down his cheeks.

"It's like I'm fucking a dead body in shrouds," Luther keeps talking and to Diego's immense satisfaction, his voice has a few desperate and whiny notes in it, too. "It's not my thing."

Then his legs are free and the bigger man hooks them around his waist. As soon as the proper contact is established, Diego clenches onto him desperately, knees crushing the ribs in an automatic grappling maneuver, ankles locked at the man's lower back. He's at the point when he'll do anything to make the man stay in place. 

Luther smacks at his thighs, lightly at first, then harder to get the point across. "I'm not moving until you calm down," he says, his voice low in a way Diego can appreciate unironically only when he is minutes from coming.

He huffs, the snot and saliva flying at Luther in cascades, then drops his head and relaxes the death grip around the man's midsection just a tiny bit. The ribs immediately expand to get the air in, shuddering. 

"Good boy," Luther tells him, rubbing the tense muscles of Diego's outstretched arms. He can barely feel the touch. The numbness has settled in long ago and he can't even move his fingers anymore. 

The burning in his sides has subsided as soon as Luther has taken most of his weight so now he's almost in balance again, relaxed enough to let the words sink in. 

It is tragic and at the same time hysterical that Diego is only ever good when he's balancing on the tip of a monstrous dick about to be split in two. But then again, it's the only time he'll take the definition and let it stick to his skin, let it soak into and get into the bloodstream until, perhaps, he believes it. 

"Are you laughing at me?" Luther whispers against the scar at the side of his skull, following it with his mouth as it snakes through the hair. 

Diego shakes his head. Then he bumps his forehead against where he presumes the man's own to be. Gets him in the cheekbone instead just to say "please" without actually saying it. He'll stutter now if he opens his mouth and Luther will know how he really makes him feel if he hears him choking on the letters. 

Luther slides his burning palms up to spread his cheeks and take him again, slow, steady like he did the first time they ever fucked, years ago. Diego's forgotten the surroundings, the circumstances but the sensation is just the same. Like there are no boundaries left between them. 

And some of them will be rebuilt first thing come morning. The first words out of Diego's mouth will be to push the man behind the perimeter and keep him there. For now, though, he's left with swimming in the feeling of absolute trust. 

He won't open his eyes and finds Luther's mouth blindly and doesn't lose it until they are done. His fingers twitch above him. For the first time in ages, he wants his bounds undone so he can stroke Luther's thick skull as he's kissing him because Luther likes it and he secretly likes it, too. 

But that's the trick for another time. All of his words are gone and he's being moved up and down the length inside him with the technical precision, faster up, slow down to have some mercy on his insides. Luther told him to stay calm and be good and he is. 

He is the best, in fact, and he doesn't even attempt to actively get himself off against the man's belly and chest. It's building, the tightness, the warmth. And when Luther pulls him up again until only the head remains inside and slams him down, he convulses helplessly and comes. 

His body shakes with the same frequency the big guy does, the overwhelming tightness swallows the rest of the senses and him whole until nothing matters and nothing is left.

He is then carried over the shoulder to the bedroom with his hands still bound and tingling, with come sliding down the back of his thighs and the heavy steps lulling him to sleep. And when he sleeps, Diego dreams of endless space.


End file.
